


Turn Thy Heel

by japansace



Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: + magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Elves, Fantasy Violence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Princess Yuuri Katsuki, Protective Victor Nikiforov, author will do anything to get out of writing her grad thesis apparently, oh lord he mad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23104444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace
Summary: “You’ve launched an attack on a fellow elf. Fledgling though you are, you must know what that means.”
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133426
Comments: 48
Kudos: 305





	Turn Thy Heel

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one feverish frenzy. It wasn't even on my list of installments...? Wow, way to have priorities, me.
> 
> Ages:
> 
> Victor: 1800  
> Yuuri: 1760

The scene is a familiar one.

Or it was, from just once before. A thousand years ago to the day, Yuuri had shuffled into Sunland’s sprawling ballroom clutching his sister’s sleeve like a babe, biting at the inside of his cheek and wishing only that the evening would pass swiftly and without incident.

But then he had looked up—and saw Prince Victor of Woodland’s big, beautiful blue eyes, his head tilted and brows furrowed with concern.

Concern for _him._

And his entire world had shifted.

Much has happened since then. He now finds himself wed— _loved_ , more importantly—having been married into the royal family of Woodland. Though it’s been nearly nine hundred years since his coronation, it still feels fresh; sometimes Yuuri reaches under his collar for his betrothal necklace and just… stares. Just stares at it in absolute awe.

But there are other parts about his new status that he isn’t nearly as fond of.

The millennium gathering of elves was made to be in Woodland this time—which means Yuuri is meant to do a lot more than just attend. He has to represent the kingdom now as _Princess Yuuri_ , which he can only hear in his head as sarcastic, thanks to the tireless efforts of his older sister.

He has to make a good impression. He has to appear _proper._

And his dear husband has to as well, which means he’s not at Yuuri’s side, at the moment.

Yuuri watches over the rim of his cup as Victor works the room, charming and charismatic as ever. He’s attracted a crowd—and why wouldn’t he? He is obviously the best of all them: royal, beautiful, clever and kind. Yuuri had hung off his arm for a while earlier, but then he’d grown bored of the practice, when he had been looked over for the twelfth time. He knows well he’s not as endlessly wonderful as Victor, but people could at least _talk_ to him. Victor insists they’re merely intimidated by him—by his beauty and wits and by the rarity of his talent—but Yuuri doesn’t buy it for even one second.

Oh, his Victor. Always too generous with his assertions of him.

Victor smiles at him from across the way, in such a manner that Yuuri knows to tune into his thoughts. _Still doing all right, love?_

Yuuri sips, at his wine. _I’ll survive._

Victor holds back some laughter, if only so the company around him won’t be startled at him finding humor in seemingly nothing.

But Yuuri knows.

He likes very much that he’s the only one who gets to know.

He sighs and turns away, to retreat to the terrace for some air. It’s where he’d gone a thousand years ago but in Sunland, when the crowd had overwhelmed him. He hopes it will be as deserted now as it was then.

No such luck. Stragglers loiter at the corners: pockets of friends and acquaintances. Yuuri had already since greeted his parents, his sister and a few friends; what he needed now was some peace and quiet, if only to self-medicate with liquor to ease the lingering ache in his head.

_Too many people..._

“Pardon me, but might you be Princess Yuuri?”

Yuuri startles, from where he’s leant himself against the banister. He’s effectively shut his talent off for the night, in every way that he can, so he hadn’t detected a presence until it was right next to him, practically in his ear.

He turns, to survey this person.

She’s an elf of not inconsiderable stature, clearly from Sunland by the tone of her skin and the design of her dress. Yuuri couldn’t claim to be familiar with _everyone_ in Sunland, but he figures himself well-versed enough, with how Phichit likes to introduce him to everyone he knows at the first opportunity. But she’s very young based on the length of her hair, which could probably reach the shoulders if she only straightened it but remains steadfastly by the ears, with the strength of her curls. A debut appearance at the elven gatherings then, Yuuri thinks. It only makes sense that he’s never seen her before.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, recalling her question. “And you are?”

The elf holds a hand to her heart, bowing in the appropriate elven way. “I’m Chihoko of Sunland, Your Highness.”

Yuuri barely stops himself from scoffing. “Please, none of this ‘Your Highness’ business. It makes me uneasy, when it’s not needed.”

Chihoko lifts herself out of her bow, with a flagrant wink. “Just Yuuri then.”

Yuuri tightens his grip on his wine, not necessarily liking the sound of that either.

She has a… tone about her.

And an attitude as well.

“I came over here to ask you to dance.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says absently. He’s still trying to parse out her motives, without the use of his talent. He rather not open up his mental floodgate again, if he can help it.

“Yes.” Chihoko smiles, cheekily. “You do dance, don’t you?”

That strikes a chord in Yuuri, somewhere; he’s had his metaphorical toes stepped on too many times this night to simply let the comment pass by. “Of course I do!”

“Then dance with me.” Chihoko offers her hand, blatant.

Yuuri takes it as a challenge.

They stride back into the ballroom together; Yuuri subconsciously tries to seek his husband out, but he’s nowhere to be seen, at the moment. Perhaps went to another room or is else lost in the crowd. Either way, Yuuri ends up facing Chihoko in the center of the floor, holding one of her hands while the other finds her shoulder.

She is the taller one, after all.

“So Yuuri,” Chihoko says, leading them into a sway, “I am dying to know all about your talent, how it works.”

Yuuri lifts an eyebrow at her. _Brazen, this one._ “Is that right?”

She nods, fervently. “I’ve read all about you—or what little information gets out about you, anyway. I’m absolutely _fascinated,_ you know? I’ve even tried to talk to some of your friends about it, but they’re reticent to tell me anything.”

_Thank you, Phichit._

“You flatter me,” Yuuri deadpans.

“So? Will you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Read me, of course! Look into my mind. I want to feel it, experience the real thing.”

Yuuri thinks he’d read more stimulating thoughts from a common squirrel. “I rather not.”

“Oh, come now!” Chihoko turns him, tightens her grip on his hand and waist. “Don’t be like that! It’s the only reason I came to this stuffy old gathering, you know?”

Yuuri’s expression goes hard. “I said no.”

Chihoko frowns, initially—then suddenly ceases, mouth curling into an unpleasant smirk. “Oh, I see. You want something from me first. I understand: a fair trade. So then, shall we take this upstairs?”

Yuuri tilts his head, in confusion. “What do you—?”

Chihoko’s hand slides down his waist, to the curve of his rear.

Yuuri squeaks, in utter shock.

“I’m _married_ ,” he hisses.

“And lonely, aren’t you?” Chihoko gibes. “Poor Princess Yuuri. Your prince husband probably abandons you often, for his royal duties. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a night of passion, without worrying about taking away your partner from his all-important tasks?” She leans in, holding him tighter even as he tries to squirm away. Her breath is hot, upon Yuuri’s mouth. “I could do all the work, sweetling. You’d just have to lie back and take it.”

_Victor._

“What is going on here?”

The room all at once plunges into a frigid temperature. Yuuri can’t recall ever seeing Victor’s talent engaged so fully; his eyes are entirely white, aside from the stark blackness of his pupils. Moreover, his hands are curling and uncurling at his sides, as though holding himself back from doing something very wicked indeed.

Chihoko rolls her eyes, practically thrusting Yuuri away. “Good evening, Your Highness—”

But Victor merely storms past her, to steady Yuuri upon his feet and cup at the curve of his cheek. “Are you all right? Has she hurt you?”

Yuuri’s eyes flicker, a ruby-red. _Only my pride._

Victor’s expression turns severe.

_Please, Vitya, it’s not worth it—_

“ _You_ ,” Victor accuses, facing Chihoko. “Who are you, and what have you done?”

Chihoko twirls a curl, around her forefinger. “Me? I haven’t done anything. It was your wayward husband that tried to seduce me on the balcony, propositioned me while we danced. He practically _threw_ himself at me, I’ll have you know.”

Even if there weren’t a thousand witnesses who could testify to the contrary, Victor knows full-well this accusation isn’t worth even the breath it’s said with. “You dare utter these lies at me, before my honorable partner and within my sacred kingdom?”

“What’s all this about?” Yakov parts the crowd that’s accumulated, Lilia only a pace or two behind. As Woodland is the host of this gathering, he has to play the role of arbiter; but his mind already seems made up by the time he glances at Yuuri and takes in his shell-shocked expression.

Victor turns to his father, rigid. “This _cur_ has assaulted my beloved, as well as thrown accusations at him with no merit, slandering his good name.”

“It’s not true, Your Majesty!” Chihoko insists, clasping her hands. “You have to believe me! It’s Princess Yuuri who is the wrongful party here; he is the one who suggested to me an extramarital affair—”

“You would say these horrible things to me again—?” Yuuri grasps Victor’s sleeve, before he can make it across the floor.

Lilia looks to Yuuri, with a calculating blink. “Tell us what happened.”

Yuuri swallows, gripping Victor’s sleeve all the tighter.

“She…” Yuuri eyes flit to the ground, searching for nothing. Victor’s hand finds his cheek again, thumbing gentle circles at the corner of his mouth. “She wanted to experience my talent. When I refused her, she offered her body in return for the favor. And when I refused her again, she…” Yuuri swallows once more, teeth finding the seam of his lower lip. “She didn’t seem as though she was going to take no for an answer.”

Victor’s hand stalls, upon Yuuri’s skin. He takes a deep breath, through the nose, then looks again to his parents. “And there you have it.”

“He could be making up anything!” Chihoko claims, her voice shrill and ardent. “He can read _minds_ , you know? You can’t trust an elf like that! He could be manipulating you all, telling you what you want to hear—”

“I’ve certainly heard enough from _you_ ,” Yakov says, gruff. He holds his hand up, gesturing for silence among those gathered. “My son-in-law is not one to make up lies or tarnish the reputation of anyone without due reason.”

“How can you be so sure? For all you know, he could be a snake in the grass—”

“ _Quiet_ ,” Yakov barks, “before I lose my patience further. There are many who can testify to Princess Yuuri’s character, as well as some who can even talk of what happened here, in this very ballroom.” He looks at Chihoko, from the end of his nose. “Would you like me to go through each elf here in attendance, one by one? Or would you rather confess your wrongdoings now and save me the trouble?”

Chihoko falls silent. A thousand eyes watch her, from the crowd: the eyes of Yuuri’s parents, sister, friends, fellow countrymen who admire him from both near and afar. She turns her own countenance on them, with a panicked expression. “You… You can’t _all_ be fooled by him, can you?”

“You’re clearly lost in your own delusions,” Victor says, hard. He holds both of Yuuri’s hands now, in his own. “Yuuri can’t make us think anything we don’t want to; we merely hold him dear because he is a dear thing to hold.”

“You…” Chihoko looks to Yuuri, with hate in her eyes. “You _rat_. You sniveling, insufferable—” She reaches her hand out—and light pours from it.

It’s a wave of heat, like that from an exploding star. The air ripples with its effect; but Victor has a wall of ice between them and it before Yuuri has even turned his head fully into the other’s shoulder.

“And now you would turn your talent on us?” Victor says, accusingly. “You’re a liar and a coward.”

“You’ve launched an attack on a fellow elf,” Yakov tells Chihoko. “Fledgling though you are, you must know what that means.”

Chihoko looks initially shocked at the attack that originated from her—likely she hadn’t meant to launch one at all, not but a result of her anger preying upon her inexperience—but soon enough accepts it, with a grit to her teeth. “Fine.”

Victor steps away from Yuuri, even as the latter reaches for him; the silk of his sleeve slips through Yuuri’s fingers. “Then—” Victor holds up a hand. A pillar of ice forms from the palm, constructing a long sword that reaches up between the eyes. “—for my husband’s honor.”

The crowd fans out further, leaving an effective arena-sized area in the center of the ballroom.

Even Yuuri must respect the issuing of a challenge, retreating alongside them.

The rules are very much the same in comparison to a bout for the crown: They will fight until one of them is incapacitated or forced from the circle. But unlike a contest for authority, the only thing at stake here is pride. If Chihoko comes out victorious, Victor will have to issue her a formal apology; if the reverse happens, the terms are the same in the opposite.

And as before, any resources at their disposal are allowed.

Chihoko hikes up her dress, reaching for a dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh. From there, she takes it to the overskirt, ripping the at fabric until it’s knee-length, not willing to risk it impeding her movement.

Victor does no such thing. He simply holds himself as still as a willow, with sword in hand outstretched.

This clearly infuriates Chihoko.

The fight commences. Chihoko duels in much the way she propositions, apparently: without any semblance of grace at all. She has a hard stance and heavy movements, indicative of Sunland, a kingdom of mostly earth and light talents, used both to the scorch of the sun and the rigidity of the ground. Victor, prince of a realm that instead specializes in the sway of trees and the fall of snow, has her immediately outclassed.

Not to mention, the years between them.

Chihoko only grows more frustrated, as time stretches on. Victor appears to be mostly playing with her, parrying strokes and sending her flying with vicious icy winds, when she at all attempts to engage her talent. He clearly means to humiliate her, appear as neutral and unbothered as possible, while her face screws up in ever-mounting upset. It’s an embarrassing thing to witness; some elves in attendance even look away, as though pained by it. Chihoko even once almost steps over the arena line, only for Victor to throw her back in with a gale, for another round.

He’s toying with her. Batting at her like a cat with a mouse.

Then her frustration mounts.

There’s a scream, sending the elves within the nearest vicinity into a flinch. Heat emanates off Chihoko’s skin as though boiling her from the inside out. She stumbles to her feet—from where Victor had knocked her down—on foal-ish legs, unsteady in her rage. There’s a bright light—nearly blinding—and then she’s right there, at Victor’s neck, before he can even fully process she's moved.

And Yuuri sees red.

_Don’t you dare._

Chihoko hesitates, for the briefest moment. She hears a voice from behind her, somewhere— _in her head_ , almost—and she will not be sneaked up upon, right when she has her enemy in her sights. But that modicum of hesitation is all the opening Victor needs to strike her with the brunt of his icy blade: a slanting cut, from the side of her neck all the way down to the jut of her hipbone.

It’s not very deep; Yuuri can tell that much from reading her, recognizing her thought process. He’s heard the thoughts of those who have slipped into eternal sleep before, and this is not one of those times. What _is_ more serious, however, is when she falls to the ground with the impact of the blow, knocking the back of her skull against the mosaic floor with an audible crack—

—and all at once goes limp.

She’s breathing, of course, because it takes much more than that to bring down the likes of an elf. But she’s unconscious, which effectively ends the match in Victor’s favor.

“Well,” Yakov grunts, in the interim, as everyone is still silent in their shock, “I suppose that takes care of that.” He motions for a few elves to help him scrape Chihoko off the ground, bring her to the medical chamber to be looked over. Yuuri watches as two elves go up to her—her _parents_ , he realizes—looking both at once concerned and very much ashamed.

They follow her out, and it is only then that Yuuri feels safe enough to push himself forward, slip his arm into the crook of Victor’s elbow. “Congratulations,” he says, drawing the flat of his temple down his beloved’s bicep. “You can rest easy now. My honor has been sufficiently defended.”

Victor’s sword only then dissipates into diamond dust, Chihoko’s blood evaporating along with it into the air. He places a hand over Yuuri’s, where it clutches at his sleeve. “Somehow, I don’t feel as though I’ve won.” He turns to Yuuri, with a look of chagrin. “Forgive me, my love. I was vengeful—and more so to my ends than your own. I should have ended it quickly, without such a blatant display of hubris.”

“It’s all right.” Yuuri leans into him, further. “But may we retire for the night? My head is aching worse now than ever.”

“Yes—yes, of course.” Victor tucks him under his arm, leading them away from the ballroom.

Yuuri closes his eyes to the looks sent his way, as they go. He cares only for sleep now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

“She got off easy,” Victor says, returning in the morning to their chambers. He went to Chihoko’s hearing to represent Yuuri and him both, Yuuri claiming a headache as excuse for his absence that was truly very mild.

He simply hadn’t wanted to see her face again, if he could help it.

Yuuri approaches his husband in the entry, helping with Victor’s ties to get him out of his overcoat. “Oh? What did Father and Mother decide for her?” He gestures for Victor to lean forward, so that he might remove the circlet from his head.

“Only that she be sent back to Sunland immediately and be barred from traveling outside it for a thousand years.” Victor huffs softly, under his breath, as Yuuri lifts the crown of teardrop diamonds from his brow, the gems tinkling together with the gentle movement. “It’s essentially house arrest, which I find very tame for an infraction such as this.”

Yuuri sets the circlet down, bringing his fingers up again to comb through Victor’s hair. “They probably predicated it on her age. She’s… what… seven hundred? Practically a child.”

“You were seven hundred, when you married me,” Victor points out, unfairly. But he’s smiling a foolish smile, with the sweetness of the memory.

Yuuri reddens, considerably. “I was seven hundred _seventy._ ”

Victor brings Yuuri’s hand down from his forehead, to kiss at the palm. “And you don’t look even a day older.”

Yuuri frowns, through his flush. “That kind of mortal talk won’t work on me.”

Victor chuckles into his fingers. “Right.”

Yuuri clears his throat, in an effort to further stave off the blush.

They retreat to the bedroom, in so that Yuuri can braid Victor’s hair. At the length it is now, it’s almost a futile effort—and nearly entirely impossible when he’s made to wear a crown—but Yuuri likes it: the repetitive motion of it, running his hands through the silken locks and the press of his person to Victor’s back, feeling the solidity, the heat of him. It’s soothing, in a wholly fundamental way.

But after the first plait, Yuuri’s fingers halt, in his hair. “Ah… Vitya?”

Victor glances at him, from over his shoulder. “Yes, my love?”

Yuuri looks up at him through the fan of his lashes. “I, ah… I meant to ask you this before, but… what Chihoko said… about me being a snake in the grass… Could she be right? Could I really be manipulating people with my talent into doing my bidding?”

Victor groans, in clear annoyance. “Don’t give that wretch even a second thought. She was clearly backed into a corner, grasping for any argument or ridiculous excuse that could prove useful in worming her way out.”

“Yes, but…” Yuuri niggles at his lower lip. “But she is right in that… I do read people. I do send thoughts out to others. It’s an ability almost no one else possesses, and I’ve had it for nearly my whole life. What if… what if I _am_ using it for my own selfish gain, subconsciously?”

Victor stares at him, for a long time. “Yuuri,” he says finally, and Yuuri knows he’s serious in how he doesn’t use a diminutive, “you cried the other day about how you couldn’t tell the ducklings that the river is just on the other side of the forest.”

Yuuri tears up, despite himself. “But—but they’re just so small and fluffy, Vitya, and they don’t _know_ —”

“You don’t have a cruel bone in your body, my dear. I trust you implicitly with everything I am.”

Yuuri hugs Victor around the waist, nuzzling his face into the back of his cloak.

It’s only when he returns to his braiding that Victor poses a question of his own: “But that reminds me, sunshine, I was wondering myself… During the duel yesterday, at the penultimate moment… did you have something to do with how that woman choked up, just as she had me on the ropes?”

Yuuri halts again in his movements. He considers—then smiles, into Victor’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Victor chuckles under his breath.

Chihoko was right in one regard, Yuuri thinks:

Sometimes you just can’t trust an elf such as him.

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost four AM. 
> 
> (I'll answer comments in the morning. But for now: _sleep _.)__


End file.
